Rorschach's Journal
by Jacqueline King
Summary: Journal entries of the infamous vigilante before the events that take place in 1985. Not in chronilogical order. Told in his traditional WATCHMEN style. Please read and review. T for language and/or violence.
1. Humanity

**Rorschach's Journal, December 8th, 1980**

Got up late today. Fell asleep with face on. Hate when that happens. Not safe. Stayed out till dawn last night. Followed mob members to docks for drug pick up. Used to be a lot better. Lot quicker on their feet. Can't complain.

Changed back into mask. No one knows without my face. Treated like bum. Am bum without face. Went down to newsstand at corner. Man gave me New Frontiersman with tears in his eyes.

Asked me if the world will end today. Told him soon. Told me it was today. Asked why.

_Today's the day the world's dreamer died. We'll be gone before we know it._

Didn't understand. Didn't bother. Went back to post with paper. Read about a woman giving birth to conjoined twins. Had to choose one to live, one to die. Didn't choose in time.

Lot like our nation.

**Rorschach's Journal, December 9th, 1980**

Understand what man at newsstand meant. John Lennon. Shot four times by fan. Same day killer had asked for autograph. No motive. No reason. Four shots.

He'll get each one of them back.

**Rorschach's Journal, December 10th, 1980**

Found shooter. Mark David Chapman. Sitting in county, waiting for trial. Got in last night. Kept in isolation. Broke his leg before guards returned from false alarm. Got up in air vent before they opened cell. Chapman didn't look up. Said he broke leg himself.

Made sure he saw my face before I left.

Narcissists can't take my credit.

Everyone on streets looks like dead men walking. Notice me more. Notice sign. Some even say things to me. Told me I was right.

They grieve for a man they did not know. For an injustice they do not attempt to fix. One man has died. At least one is killed in these streets each night. But only this one is grieved. The grievance of the loss of humanity.

City doesn't know meaning of humanity.

In a week, they will be back to the drugs and the whores.


	2. Sacrifice

**Rorschach's Journal, October 31st, 1980**

Halloween night. People trade in dancing with each other for dancing with the devil.

Found man in alley outside apartment trying to give kids candy on the street. Kids were more scared to see me than him. Ran away. Got a hold of him before he did too. Asked him what's in the candy. Told me it was just candy.

Broke his fingers.

Said there were needles in the popcorn balls.

Made him eat one before leaving him bleeding in the alley.

Made way to Dreiberg's place. Do what I do every Halloween. Ask him if he wants to come along for the night.

Always says no. Nothing new tonight.

Used to bust big crimes on Halloween with Dreiberg. Counterfeiters, pimps, mob family meetings. Called it Ghost Watch.

Now he sits at home with a bowl of candy and a mask of the man he once was hanging in his closet.

I am the only one left. Only one who knows what's still happening out here in this hole in the world. So I climb buildings, head for East Side. Know there's a cult ritual supposed to happen at midnight. Heard through bars of the underworld. Going to kill someone. Young girl. Thirteen.

Won't let them feed her to the dogs. Their blood will stain their robes and their altar. Is that not sacrifice?

**Rorschach's Journal, November 1st, 1980**

Too tired to write last night. Nearly fell asleep in alley with face and clothes. Had to slap myself to get up. Write now, before heading for Gugna.

Found them in abandoned apartment building. Wasn't hard. Whole place lit up with candles. No one would go near. Police knew she was in there. Didn't try to get in. Heard one mention a hostage situation.

Not hostage. Sacrifice. And they stood outside, waiting for the screams that would announce their witness to her murder. Went in through roof. Cops saw me, felt their flashlights hit my back and the sounds of eager shouts filled my ears. More concerned with me than her life.

Center of building, near stairwell was a cluster of them. All wearing white robes and painted faces. Didn't think things through. Threw three of them downstairs. Saw the scratches left by sharp canines on a bit of bone fought over by dogs in my mind. Fourth one I threw against wall. Told him to tell me where she was.  
Sixth floor. Room marked 313. Heard them coming up the stairs after finding the others.

Only fell a few stories. None were dead. Shame.

Made way downstairs. Didn't take long. Robes are easy to trip up on. Made me think of Comedian. Would have laughed as they stumble over their religion.  
Got to room. Candles were black. Held her over a tub. One held scythe and was using it to cut through girl's clothes. Didn't waste time. Didn't think about bones this time. Went straight for scythe. Stuck it in leader's skull. Grabbed girl before followers could react. They'd dropped her in tub. Now lay the leader, blood pooling up into its belly, as he became his own sacrifice.

Jumped out of window with girl into back alley, away from police. Only six stories. Doesn't kill. Hurts like hell.

Hit concrete. Felt ankles buckle, didn't break. Thought face got torn, and dropped girl. Girl broke her arm at impact. Wasn't holding onto me even before dropped her. She was still screaming. Followers were trapped by police without their sacrifice. Police lights were coming round corner to alley. Went to nearest fire escape, left girl half-naked in alley for police to find her.

Heard her shout after me.

Told me I was a hero.

Whispered back, "Never."


	3. Foolishness

**Rorschach's Journal, April 1st, 1981**

New York was built on bones.

Cemeteries were plowed, not even sure if all the bodies had been moved. Now people go in their basements and find a bit of exposed dirt wall with a skull staring out at them.

If anyone in this damned place even cared, the bones they find would have given way to understanding how they got there. Would have known that above Avenue X, there never was a cemetery in Greenwich. Would've known it was a suspected murder site only three years ago.

Went to search apartment building skeleton was found after hearing rumors on sign route. Walk through village most of the time, walking by Avenue S when heard woman speaking in broken English to police. Police didn't understand her accent.

Didn't try.

Approached her, asked what had happened. Looked afraid of me, just tried to look… friendly. Don't know if it worked.

Still talked though. Said she'd found a skull when doing laundry in apartment's basement. Noticed my sign then and took a step away slightly. Told her I'd put in a good word for her. Walked away slowly after that.

Waited till dark to put on face and investigate.

Apartment building was easy to get into. One lock picked, two deadbolts busted by shoulder, easy alarm system to unwire. Planned to rewire before leaving. Never got a chance.

Got down to basement. Place was cold and damp. Tried the lights. No good. Didn't hear the hum of a washing machine or dryer. Nothing but stillness and stale air. Something wrong.

Sudden light flickered on in form of flashlight in far corner of basement. Was at it before even looking to see who was there. Person—man, in good shape—didn't fight when grabbed around throat and wrist. Fact, he laughed.

Knew the laugh.

Let go of him as he shined the flashlight up into his face like a child telling a scary story. It was a scary story. Did he know? Did he know what I was without my face? Could it be risked? Easy answer. No. It couldn't.

"She never told me who she got to listen to her. Never thought it'd be you, Schach. Pretty good actress, huh? Wonder if they make 'em all like that in the… god where did that whore come from? Ah, well, you'd probably know. Please, tell an old friend. I wouldn't mind taking a little _holiday_."  
Didn't say anything. Waiting to see if it was a bluff. Couldn't risk being the fool. Couldn't.

His expression hardened. "April's _fool_, Rorschach."

"Not funny."

"Ha! Ha! That's what you never got Inky. It _is_ funny. And I'm the only one laughing."

"Laugh with the bones, then."

Knocked the flashlight from his hand, stomped on it, left him in the darkness of the basement.

The Comedian could stand to laugh alone.

Does it all the time.


	4. Luck

**Rorschach's Journal, May 13th, 1982**

Solved a cold case with advice from Dreiberg. Strange luck.

Two years ago. Young man, twenty-three. George Haust. Seen walking down a lane, mumbling to himself on Valentine's Day. Thought to be drunk. Last seen entering house, same mumbling state. Next day house was found with front door wide open, no signs of struggle.

Forty-eight hours later case was turned into missing persons. Went to house to look for evidence. Reports were on. No struggle. No suitcases. No signs of leaving. Just left.

Or was told to left.

Looked into it for weeks. Found family members, friends, enemies. No one inclined enough. Or intelligent enough. Six months later, still no leads. Police filed as dead.

Didn't want to live with that. More important things, though. Comedian's "joke" still on my mind (see entry April 1st, 1981).

Today. Went to Dreiberg's at nightfall. Wanted to mention another artist in few months filed missing. Wanted to see what he knew. And a bowl of Rice Crispies.

Got in like always. Went to kitchen. Dreiberg eating meal in front of TV. Watching Politicians regurgitate lies and serve them on concealing serving platters. Didn't notice me until after debate. Came in, nearly killed him when he tripped at seeing me.

"Hurm… Balance's been better."

"Jesus, Rorschach. You know you could… knock, right? I'd let you in." Paused.

"Probably," finished for him.

"Probably." Smiled, shook head and put plate in sink. "So… what are you doing here, Rorschach? You know, I've had a pretty rough day. I don't know if I can handle…" Rubbed back of his neck. Annoying nervous habit.

"Wanted your opinion."

"Ah…" Rolled shoulders. Rubbed neck again. Very on edge. Finished up cereal and pulled face back down fully. Didn't like it being exposed so much. Even to Dreiberg. Waited. Knew he wasn't going to be any help. Didn't want to leave yet though. Something wasn't quite right.

"Look, I've had a long day. Maybe it's just Friday the 13th, huh?" Nervous laughter. Wants me to leave.

"Hurm. What happened?"

Didn't expect an answer. Just a dismissal.

"A kid… probably in his mid twenties comes up to me and starts rambling. The poor kid just keeps saying he doesn't know who he is, or how he got there or what's happened to him for the past few _years_. I didn't know what to do. Then he said that he remembered me. Not how I look now he said. A younger me, he said. He keeps on swearing he's seen me when he was a kid, he just can't remember. I got him some help, but it was weird. I think I saved the guy when he was younger, y'know, back in the day."

"The day."

"Yeah… I remember a group of kids held up in a school, do you? That was one of the worst hostage situations… But I forget everything. Anyways, I think he was one of those kids.

"He didn't know what he was doing though. It looked like amnesia to me. He didn't seem completely off, y'know? Kept telling me his name, hoping I'd recognize it or something."

Was remembering the school hostage. One person shot. Teacher in the back of the head. She'd been trying to tell a kid it would be all right. Gunman spooked and got trigger happy. Landed him in a comfy electric chair.

"What was name?"

"George Haust."

Knew _that_ name.

"Didn't remember anything?"

"Not for the past two years it sounded like. Told me he remembered everything up to going to some bar in the winter of '80."

"Fugue."

"What?"

Stood up and straightened face. "Dissociatve fugue. Identity crisis. Forget who you are, become someone else. When finally come to, don't remember other self or actions done since fugue. Caused by trauma, physical and psychological stress."

"So you think his subconscious just decided one day to become someone else entirely?"

"Stranger things happen. Last seen Valentine's Day in '80. Name matches. Story too."

"Huh. Valentine's Day. Don't blame the guy."

"Hurm?"

"Valentine's Day isn't exactly mercy on a guy's heart when he's alone, is it?"

Didn't say anything. Never thought about it before.

"Oh. Well… What was it you were going to tell me?" Awkward silences don't sit well with Dreiberg.

"Not important. Thanks for the Rice Crispies." Made to leave.

"Hey, Rorschach?"

Stopped.

"Thanks… for stopping by. I mean, I know I'm usually not as… talkative. But it was… nice to see you. Haven't seen you since last Halloween… And just… well…. Thanks, I guess."

Didn't say anything. He looked away from my face first. Kept thinking about what he said. Didn't understand. Finally spoke.

"Nice to see you too." Words felt strange. Dreiberg looked different though. Shocked. Amused. Happy?

Heard him laugh as I left. Uncomfortable laugh.

Almost thought I heard him speak again. Something like, "see you around".

Stranger things have happened.

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**Author's Ramble:** Just wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed. I love hearing what you guys think. It's nice to see Watchmen fans still alive on . Oh, and if you have a recommendation for a "theme" for a journal entry (the themes are the titles to each chapter), I'd love to have some new ideas. Just leave your idea in a review, or PM me. Thanks again for reading! - Jacqueline.


	5. Fate

**Author's Note: **Thanks to MahoneSona for the theme "Fate".

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**Rorschach's Journal, January 18th 1985**

The streets stink with urine and salt. Even 5th Avenue feels the bite of the frost and the ice slick beneath their feet. Worst winter in years. Face keeps freezing to skin as I make way through underworld. People stay inside, committing their crime behind closed doors.

Nothing tonight but the wind that rakes through this city of steel bone. Nothing but the cold, the coming storm, and me.

Stand on top of abandon building and stare down at the naked city, bare to the freeze. A trashcan rolls, a dying animal makes a last call, a taxi races by.

The quiet before the storm.

Something is coming...


	6. Survival

**Author's Thanks:** Credit goes to **Subject to Change** for the theme "Survival".

* * *

**Rorschach's Journal March 6th 1983**

This place is full of disease. The reward for sex and shared needles.

Girls with rouge-smeared cheeks line the streets waiting to sell themselves to get their fix. Men make quick glances at one another in passing from bar to bar. Remembering the face for the moment they find a quiet corner.

And so they infect each other for their pleasures and addictions. Does not matter who is hurt along the way. As long as they get their fix, their lust, their need slated.

Find them clogging the streets like dead rats clogging sewers. Group of them sit outside in alley behind apartment, just before streetlamps come on. Just as I put on my face and enter the belly of the underworld.

Found another one dead outback after coming back to apartment today. Overdose. Not surprised. Young woman. Early twenties. Pupils dilated and arm scarred and swollen from injection. Drugs probably spiked with something. Remember seeing her with group before leaving to investigate a series of murders in Queens.

Didn't have time to scare them home. Now she lies dead in a back alley, surrounded by drains, trash and graffiti, lying in her own waste and still holding the needle that killed her.

And tomorrow those same people who were with her will head out into the early twilight and search for a new place to shoot up, a new place to leave a friend dead. They will survive off their addiction, until their addiction proves to be the death of them.

Or until I find them and hand them back her needle.

Wouldn't want to waste it.

* * *

**Author's Ramble: **Thanks again to everyone who has/is review(ing). If you want to suggest a theme, please take my poll in my profile. If you have a new idea, please leave a review or note me! Thanks for reading!  
**_  
_**_(**Creepingshadows** - I saw your review. I have my own DeviantART account and if I choose to post them there I'd prefer to use my own. But I have no problems with you drawing fanart for my story. I'd be honored. =D)_


	7. Loneliness

**Rorschach's Journal, September 12th 1983**

Landlady hounded me for rent today. Told her I had nothing to give. Made her mad. She was more concerned about the hundred some dollars I owed her than the four or five screaming children surrounding her.

Went to Dreiberg's tonight. Was planning to ask about John. Heard from Frontiersman he was making a new form of matter.

Broke the lock like usual. Decided to wait until he came back. Helped myself to leftovers from Gunga. Checked around kitchen. Found where he kept his emergency cash. The little owl cookie jar above the fridge. Should have guessed. Left a note inside telling him to pick a better hiding spot.

Didn't take any. Didn't want to. He only had twenty dollars and fifteen cents.

Waited for three hours. Checked the time. It was almost four in the morning.

Found it odd Dreiberg wasn't home. Part of me thought something might have happened. Reminded myself he could hold his own, even now.

Left his place knowing I hadn't come to talk about John.

A wasted night for nothing but a twisted sense of obligation to a man who gave up his mantle when society told him to. I fear of becoming what he is. A failure. A man who's given up on everything that ever meant anything to him. How had it come to that?

Keene Act means nothing. The man opening fire on a group of school children, the woman who sells herself on the street for a pinch of powdered escape, the corporations who deal with the devil—those things matter.

What matters when you've given up on stopping those things?

Money in a cookie jar?

Daniel's become like every fleshy vegetable that resides in this "Land of the Free". Free to stand by and watch society slowly drag its way through existence in the cesspools of greed. Free to let it happen.

Now I slink through the streets, working with the rats of the underworld to do the one thing no one will. Walk the streets alone.

Didn't use to.

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**Author's Ramble: **I don't remember who first suggested this theme, but thank you to who ever did! A new poll will be made for the next theme. Currently, I think the runner up to this one was "Justified". If you'd like to have a say in what the next theme is, please take the poll or leave a suggestion in a review. Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and faved.


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